


Andromeda

by Rosasharn



Series: Mythology [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Dream is Perseus, George is Andromeda, George is so pretty, Greek Heroes, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Love at First Sight, M/M, Soulmates, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), greek myth retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosasharn/pseuds/Rosasharn
Summary: A retelling of the Ancient Greek myth of Perseus and Andromeda, but make it gay and centered around minecraft youtubers.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Mythology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189712
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Andromeda

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is the first time I've written a shorter fic like this and I did it in one sitting and finished it at 3 AM, so excuse any typos (I edited it before posting it but still I miss stuff all the time). 
> 
> Basically what I did was replace Perseus with Dream and Andromeda with George. Of course, I took some liberties so this is not the exact original myth, but it's pretty damn close. Also, I feel like I should mention that Andromeda was most likely a woman of color, and I wanted to say that because I feel a little weird replacing her with a white man (though I wouldn't be the first to whitewash her, I'm looking at you historians).
> 
> I love both mcyt and Greek Mythology so this was SO much fun, and if people like this I may do another one!

George, upon being born, was stunning. Many wondered if he was a son of Aphrodite for his pristine beauty. It lingered around him always, dark hair paired with pale complexion. It was his eyes, however, that took everyone’s breath away, for they were of two different colors. One a soft and sweet brown, the other a vibrant and extant blue.

The people worshipped him. A gift to them from the Gods, and he was spoiled with goods and affections wherever he went. His face shined, lacking any lines of stress, and a coy smile situated on his lips always. He moved elegantly, hands hung at his side and walked in long, slow strides. He made everything look effortless, and was admired by all. He should have known that nothing was ever so easy for mortals blessed as he. His downfall was almost as inevitable as the sun’s arc across the sky, pulled by the Blazing Helios.

In the end, it was his mother, Queen Cassiopeia, who doomed him. She was gorgeous herself, and vain in the same length. He would never forget the ear-splitting rumble of the buildings of his city falling. The ground tossing beneath his feet as he ran. His chest heaving and burning as he sprinted to escape the destruction of the sea monster. The creature was lengthy and twisting, in the way that struck fear in each and every one of them. It resembled the snakes that lingered underfoot and shot venom into their veins. It was just as deadly, sprawling a good hundred times the size of any of their mortal snakes.

He looked up at it, terrified, and knew that it was the Gods’ doing. The rows upon rows of sharp teeth, dripping blood and gore, glinted in the sunlight. It’s body writhed below the roiling surface of the sea. Supernatural and glistening, it wreaked absolute havoc on the city of Aethiopia.

Later, he would learn that it was his own fault. Mother had a loose tongue, and she had made a dire mistake in letting it prattle off to the Nereids.

_“He is more pretty even, than any Nereid could dream.”_

The Nereids thought they were the most beautiful, and did not take kindly to Cassiopeia’s high praise of George. It was a deadly insult, and united at the feet of their father Poseidon, who sat on his towering throne made of the frothing sea, they were granted their wish. He sent wailing revenge on their kingdom.

_“It it because of Prince George that you will all perish, and your city reduced to ruins. Do not forget this. Cetus will not stop, unless you give him over in sacrifice.”_

The God’s voice had pounded in their mortal ears, enraged and merciless. George’s heart stopped upon hearing them, hearing his name fall from the great God’s mouth. He heard his mother cry out, felt his own tears stream down his face, cool and swift.

He did not want to go. He thrashed in the arms of the soldiers who dragged him along. His feet planted on the floor and his nails ripped at whatever skin he could get them on, screaming and crying. He had never been denied anything before, and he put up a vicious fight. It wasn’t enough.

By the time they reached the rocky sea shore, he was giving up. Running low on energy, and miserable with the sobs wracking his body, he went loose in their arms and allowed them to clamp the chains onto his wrists. They forced him to his knees and fastened him to a sturdy rock on a jagged outcropping near the ocean. Waves crashed, large and festering, against the rocks below him and splashed salt water onto his face. The wind whipped through his hair and clothes.

He pulled fruitlessly against the chains that held his arms behind his back. They scraped at the soft skin of his wrists, digging dark red marks in places that had never felt anything so harsh. Screams tore through his body, his eyes scrunching and spit flying from his mouth. His forehead dropped to touch the rough surface of the rock he was knelt on top of. It cut into his forehead, marking up his precious face. He cried desperately for help, but there was no one around to hear him anymore.

He was sure he had never looked more ugly. He gulped down air that was wet and humid in his lungs, and in the moment of silence he heard it finally. The parting of the waves, slick and crushing, as the sea monster Cetus approached him. It sliced through the waves in perfect motions, it was made for the ocean.

George closed his eyes and lowered his chin to his chest. In his last moments of life, he pleaded for mercy. He hoped that Poseidon’s wrath would not follow him into the Underworld, that maybe Hades or Persephone would take pity on him. At least, he thought, he would be taking a Hero’s death, and he pictured all of the people who he would be saving. He would die for his kingdom, as many had before him and would after him, on some whim of the Gods.

Between the noises of the water came a different sound, like a heart beating rhythmically in the air. George blinked open his eyes and tossed his head back to stare blearily around the sky. Movement caught his attention above the rising form of the serpent, whose neck was bent and arching towards him. He froze in place, terror ripping through him, and was almost unable to identify the source of the other noise.

The flapping of wings, he realized in wonder. Not a bird, however, far too big, and as it flew closer and closer, finally George gasped with realization. The great Hero Dream, riding the wondrous Pegasus. The two whipped through the air, careening back and forth with ease. It took George’s breath away, and as he looked towards the sky in amazement, he almost forgot the death that circled him, until it stared him straight in the face with hot, vile breath.

Up close it was even more terrifying, spikes protruding from the top of it’s head in rusty oranges. It’s body was glisteningly blue, but the head was an emerald green that showcased blood from miles away. It’s scales sparkled in the sunlight and dripped water. It’s tongue flicked out and the air around them steamed.

George stared the creature head on, unblinkingly, a newfound valiance surging in him. If the legendary Dream was watching on, he hoped he would see his selflessness and strength. That is how he saw the exact moment Pegasus dipped down and raced past, sending a stifling breeze to hit his face, and Dream in one fluid strike, sliced the head of the Cetus clean off with a sizzling hiss. George felt the slippery gore splatter across his face and neck and closed his eyes against it. The head of the beast fell back into the ocean where it belonged, and sunk to the sandy floor.

Something heavy dropped next to him and he flinched. The soft patter of feet on the soaked platform told him someone was standing in front of him. He opened his eyes and looked up at the form of the Hero, completely backed by the sun. It burned his eyes and he had to force his gaze away, looking down at the man’s feet. Dream crouched down in front of him and lifted a hand to his face. He hesitated before reaching out to soothe the angry tears still streaking down his cheeks.

Dreams face was worn and scarred from his many arduous travels, but he was beautiful. His hair fell, golden and shiny, to his shoulders, and his skin glimmered with the Godly blood that ran through it. His eyes were a verdant green that stared through George’s exterior and plunged into his heart. It was an instant love. George leaned his face into his hand, fresh tears flushing from the corners of his eyes. He had been so prepared to die.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” Dream said, voice quiet and lush. George was putty in his hands, barely able to believe that he was talking to the famous Hero all of Greece loved. Through it all, he managed to blush and smile wearily.

“And you are more myth than person,” George said, bowing his head. Dream’s hand faltered, then nudged his chin upwards again. His eyebrows were knitted together now and a looked of concern spread across his face.

“I would be more to you, if you’d let me.” George stared into his eyes longingly. Affection poured from them and he smiled wider this time.

“You’ve saved my life, how could I refuse?”

“And if I had not saved your life, would you still accept me?”

“Of course.”

“If I were not part God. If I were not a Hero. Would you still accept me?”

“Of course.” George smiled, light and pure, for it was the truth.

Dream’s grin grew tenfold and his hand rose to rake through George’s flattened and dirty hair. George was leaned as far forward as he could be, straining against his chains. As if Dream took notice of them in the same second George remembered them, Dream shot up and moved angrily around George’s frail body. He brought out his sword and in a sweeping motion cracked the metal holding George back.

Immediately, relief coursed through George’s body. His arms ached as he gingerly brought them to the front of his body. He rolled his wrists out, grimacing upon the loud popping noises his joints made. Slowly, he rose to his feet. His legs were scratched up and bleeding lightly, and they swayed beneath him. He stumbled and Dream caught him in his arms. The touch was warm and comforting. It was the first time George had ever felt so overwhelmingly safe.

He twisted in Dream’s arms, determined to see the man once again. He almost could not bear to be looking away from his face. Dream’s hands settled at his sides, holding him firmly up. George tucked his hands into the spot on Dream’s chest where his heart would lay buried, and slowly, hesitantly, he moved forward. Dream met him halfway, eagerly capturing his lips in a slow kiss. It was desperate, underpinned with the adrenaline still coursing through George, but Dream’s mouth was like honey and poured a calmness into him he would never get enough of.

Dream pulled away, looking at him in complete admiration, then helped him over to Pegasus. The horse whinnied at him and nuzzled into his palm when he extended it. He was a brilliant white, with thick muscles that wavered under his skin. When Dream and George settled on his back, he threw his head and took off at a run. George gasped and held on tight to the lock of mane at the base of his neck, and Dream tightened his hold around George’s waist.

In a flurry of hooves and wings, Pegasus lifted off of the earth and flew up into the vast expanse of the sky. George let out a whoop and laughed wildly, feeling like he was on top of the world. Pegasus responded with a hearty neigh and spurred on faster. Dream laughed softly in his ear, and it was like magic. Wind, soft and cool this time, caressed his face and wove through his hair. It dried his damp clothes and left his hair sticking out in untamed waves.

Pegasus flew to the castle, where his mother and father waited for the world to stop ending. Queen Cassiopeia bent over herself, mourning the loss of her most gorgeous son, feeling the weight of the guilt pressing upon her. King Cepheus stared straight ahead in a grim stoicism. When Pegasus descended from the heavens with a clatter of hooves on stone and two figures on his back, a collective gasp spread throughout the courtroom.

The whispers that broke out rang in the large, empty room. Dream leapt down from Pegasus, bowing his head in thank you to him, and holding a hand out to help George down. They walked hand in hand to the royalty at the front of the room. The path was laid out in red carpet that muffled their steps. George’s mother cried in relief and flung herself at him, pulling him into her bosom and kissing him on the head.

 _“Forgive me. Forgive me,”_ she cried.

George pulled away and held her face in his hands.

_“You are my mother, and I will always forgive you.”_

She cried into his palms and thanked him. Next to him, Dream stepped forward and approached the King. A bout of anxiety broiled in the pit of George’s stomach. His mother shared a worried look with him. Dream knelt before the throne, head bowed.

“King Cepheus, it is an honor to be in your hall.”

The King’s voice was gravely and unkind, not at all like the lilting warmth of Dream’s own. “Rise, great Hero. You are graciously welcome here. What is it you desire, Courageous Dream?”

“I have slayed the monster Cetus that ravaged your lands, and rescued your prince. I wish for his hand in marriage.”

The betrothal of two men was not unheard of, but it still sent a wave of unease through the crowd. Dream stood tall above all of the lowly chatter. George searched the far away eyes of his father desperately for even a glimmer of hope. A look of disgust overtook his father’s face instead and George’s heart fell.

“You must be mistaken,” the King’s voice boomed. “He is already engaged, and to a woman. You are another man.” There was a venom to his voice. Dream flinched, as thought the words had hit their mark. Dream ground his teeth and raised his chin, setting his jaw. He was a son of Zeus, a legend, and would not be made a fool of.

“I don’t believe I am, your highness. I will repeat my claim. I _will_ marry Prince George. No one else will ever have him so long as I live.” His words seethed, taking on a life of their own. He looked then exactly as a Hero should look, shoulders back, his eyes fiery, and a hand on the hilt of his sword. Power radiated off of him, but King Cepheus would not back down. This was his kingdom, after all.

“You dare to tell me what you will do with my own heir!” The King surged forward. He raged now, too, but not in the calm and deadly way Dream did. His anger was ugly and sluggish. Brash. He opened his mouth to yell again, but was cut off by a sudden drop of temperature in the room.

The air buzzed around them, electrified. For a moment, George thought it was Dream, but quickly he realized it was not. Behind Dream rose a figure, tall and daunting. It morphed golden light and shadow together, until in the air behind Dream formed the shape of a human. Shrieks passed through the crowd in the courtroom and in a wave of fear everyone flung to the floor in worship. Everyone, except Dream.

Hermes moved forward airily, his wily grin never faltering, and laid a hand on Dream’s shoulder, his touch like fire. To anyone else, it would have burned and charred their skin, but Dream’s blood was ripe with ichor and it would not harm him. Dream smiled at the God he was familiar with.

_“You will do as he says. And you will think twice before mocking us ever again. Dream is under my protection, always.”_

His eyes, still as playful as ever, held a sinister warning in them. They all knew he could kill them in the blink of an eye. Dream turned around and bowed his head in thanks to Hermes, who stared fondly at him. In a swift movement his head swiveled to face George, who was still cowering on the floor.

George’s heart stopped and his breathing shallowed, but the God only smiled mischievously at him.

“You are a pretty little thing.” He cackled at the blush creeping across George’s cheeks. He turned back to Dream, who grinned back at him with pride. “You will make each other happy.”

Then he was gone. It felt like a breath being held had finally released, and everyone in the room slumped in relief. It seemed dimmer, without the light of the God present. Dream bored down on the King with gleaming eyes.

“You may have my son,” the King said brokenly, and he would never be the same again. Dream nodded once, then took long strides to meet him. George pried himself from his mother’s arms and leapt into his lover’s. Dream lifted him off the ground and spun him around, laughing joyously.

They left the dark and solemn chamber behind, finding more comfort in George’s room. The second the door slung shut, Dream’s lips were on his, soft and urgent. He opened his mouth and Dream licked into it, causing small noises of content to leave George’s chest and vibrate in Dream.

Dream’s hands trailed over his skin, cupping his jaw, dancing down his arm, tracing his hip bone. George was overwhelmed with the heat of desire and love boiling in him, so deep he wondered if it had always been there or if Dream simply drew it out of him the moment they laid eyes on each other. His mind clouded behind carnal thoughts and sheets and everlasting euphoria.

-

He woke up to sunlight burning across his eyelids. Snug arms held him in place, and he breathed in deeply the scent of Dream that hung over him like a curtain. His legs tangled with Dream’s under the blankets. He admired the tan coloration of Dream’s skin, it glistened with sweat and was marred by scarring all over. George reached out and painted his finger over one on his stomach. A vivid image of Dream curled over in pain, holding a crimson hand to a gash across his abdomen flashed behind George’s eyes and he winced.

He smoothed his palm over it, as if to erase the painful memory. He moved to the next one, on his shoulder, and did the same thing. Traced it, lived its story, then brushed the pain away. Dream’s hand lifted and grabbed his own, stopping it from continuing its journey. He held it there, and George looked up into his face to find him staring down at him with curious eyes. They were so sincere it took George aback. Slowly, Dream pulled their hands up to his mouth, and pressed his lips gently to George's fingers.

It was more intimate than it should been, and George’s heart rate picked up. His face softened and he leaned forward to kiss Dream. His lips moved careful and lovingly, a chaste and heartfelt kiss. When he pulled away Dream was smiling again. He pulled George down into his chest and ran his fingers through his silky, dark hair until they both fell back asleep.

-

Their marriage was a grand ordeal. All that were left of the kingdom came to celebrate, and even some from nearby kingdoms, for not only did they have their union to cheer for, but the death of the monster than had been threatening them all. Decor hung from every window and feature of the city, a vibrant and colorful festivity. It was a day of excitement and frenzy, and at the midst of it lay George and Dream.

Their wedding was not of the usual standards of their people, for many reasons. There was no daughter to give away, and there was no father present to do the giving. Thankfully, most of the crowd were tight-lipped, and did not comment on the oddness. Instead, they turned their heads to the sky nervously.

Their fears were misplaced, however, because Hermes appeared among them. He stood over them in all his glory, winged sandals and helmet adorned, caduceus in hand, and blessed their union. Dream held George’s hands tightly, his face lit up in bright jubilation, then dipped down to press a kiss to his cheek. The wind blew the sweet floral scent of spring to them and George’s nose tinged pink under the sunny sky. They drank rich and golden wine that spread in thick, fruity notes across their tongues.

They feasted and chatted for hours, partying late into the night and sleeping late into the morning. The food was delicious, everyone was happy, and George was in love.

-

They were about to leave Aethiopia. Arm in arm, they walked out of the castle and met with Pegasus, grazing lazily at the green grass that grew just outside the castle gates. He shook when they approached and called out. Dream ran a hand down his back in greeting and George stroked the the velvety coat on the front of his head. Pegasus nudged his muzzle into George’s palm and sniffed haughtily hoping for food, and George giggled in apology.

Queen Cassiopeia hugged George goodbye, wishing him the best and imploring him to come back and visit her. He would miss her greatly, and he obliged with full intent to keep his promise. She hugged Dream too, his large frame enveloping her small body, and she wiped the tears from her eyes and gave them a watery smile. George hadn’t seen his father since the incident in the courtroom, and so it was no surprise that he was not there then.

Dream shouldered his bag and put a hand on his lower back to guide him towards Pegasus, but before they could escape at last, a voice rung out that stalled them.

“Were you just going to leave without telling me, then?” It was Phinea. The woman George was supposed to marry. She did not look despairing or angry, but stared blankly at him and refused to even acknowledge Dream. Perhaps, she was scared of him, George thought.

“I’m sorry, I thought my father would tell you. I should have known better.” George scowled. He dragged himself away from Dream again, sending him an apologetic look over his shoulder. He walked up to her and placed a hand gingerly on her arm. He could see the sadness brimming behind her eyes.

“I am sorry, Phinea,” he said sincerely. He had not loved her, and she knew this. She nodded stiffly, trying to stifle her tears.

“You have the chance to be with a Hero,” she said. “I will not be the one to stop you.” She hesitated before pulling away, knowing that this would be the last time they would ever meet. George gave her a gentle smile and let her go.

Dream took him back to the Island of Seriphos, where his mother dwelled and he had grown up. It was his home, and he was excited to bring George to it. George loved the way his face lit up when he talked about it, and a certain fondness for the place rose up in him too.

The island was tucked away in the Aegean, made of pristine beaches and calm, flowering fields. When they landed there, Pegasus bent his head to nibble at the lush greenery, then took off alone into the sky once more. George turned wide-eyed to Dream.

“He’s going back to Zeus, on Olympus. He stayed with us for as long as he could.” Dream smiled sadly at him and George tried not to show his disappointment. He had grown to like the winged horse dearly. “Come, let me show you my home.”

Dream led him to the town where he had lived the majority of his younger years. It was quaint and homey, a few people lingered around and they called out to Dream excitedly when they saw him. Dream greeted each of them graciously, clasping their forearms and barking out laughter. It was perfectly in his nature. Then, they would each turn to George, and their lips would pucker and they would stutter out some compliment that George would laugh and smile politely at.

Dream wrapped an arm around his waist as they walked, drawing him in close. George hummed. It was growing later in the day, that dreamy time before the sun sets fully.

“How do you like it so far?” Dream’s head tilted down to look at him.

“It’s lovely,” George said, speaking earnestly. It really was lovely. Dream smiled widely and squeezed his side.

“Would you like to meet my mother?”

George giggled. “Sure, I do.”

Dream let go of him and George missed his warmth instantly, but he didn’t have time to linger on it as Dream raced ahead. George shook his head incredulously before taking off in a sprint after him.

He caught up to Dream at the bottom of a hill near the shore. The air smelled of salt and seaweed, tingling George’s nose when he breathed in. Dream laughed freely and tackled him into the sand, rubbing his nose up against George’s. George grinned and kissed him. They moved rapidly against each other, Dream’s body pressing into his, hands planted at either side of his head. They were wildly in love, and it came over them in unruly waves.

“Well, would you look who it is? Dream has returned. And I come to find him face down on top of a girl.” The voice came from behind Dream. Confusion flashed across George’s face, but in a moment Dream was up and throwing his arms around the man.

George stood up awkwardly and brushed himself off, hanging back while he watched Dream hug this person tightly.

“Diktys, oh how I missed you,” Dream said. Diktys returned the embrace, swiping a hand over the back of Dream’s head.

“I missed you too.” Dream moved away in another surge of energy. He was bouncing around, the thrill of his family and his beloved overwhelming him. Diktys looked passed Dream and at George, his jaw slackened and George saw him try to cover his surprise. He coughed into his hand. “And who is this, Dream?”

Dream closed the distance between him and George, taking his hand again and bringing him over to the man who had raised him.

“This is George,” he said, puffing his chest out a little and raising his chin. “We’re married.”

George smiled curtly at him, suppressing the rising fear in him. Diktys only nodded his head and smiled crookedly at him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, George. If you truly are Dream’s spouse, then I suppose you are a part of the family.” He was trying his best to be accepting, for Dream’s sake.

“I am very glad to be,” George said. He chanced a glance at Dream and bit his lip at the goofy smile adorning his face.

“George, this is Diktys. He’s basically my father, since, you know…” He grinned and looked up into the clouds. George understood immediately and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Dream was a demigod. They followed Diktys into his fisherman hut. There they dined together and acquainted and reacquainted, and George found that Diktys was a kind and honest man. Dream could have easily forgotten about him in his Heroic tasks, but he had not, and it made George’s heart soar.

“Where is my mother?” Dream asked. He was still chewing through his piece of bread, the rest of it held in his hand as he gestured with it. Ditkys’ face paled and he heaved a great sigh.

“You will not be pleased with this. She is with my brother, King Polydectes.”

Dream’s face darkened, like a shadow had passed over it, and he shot up from the table. The chair under him flung back and he slammed a fist on the table. George was sometimes terrified by the drastic changes in Dream’s mood. Dream noticed his worry and calmed himself down significantly. He placed a hand on George’s shoulder.

“I do not like your King Polydectes,” Dream said, his voice remaining soft despite the anger hanging off his words. Diktys looked between him and George and a certain wonder passed through his eyes. He was seeing for the first time the effect George had on Dream, and it surprised and pacified him at the same time. He turned his attention to Dream and nodded.

Dream excused the two of them and stormed off toward the castle with George in tow. They found Danae sat at the King’s side when they reached the throne room. George felt Dream tense beside him.

“King Polydectes, did I not warn you to stay away from my mother?” Dream’s voice reverberated with such clear force it silenced any rogue noises in the hall. Every servant paused in their work and ducked their heads. King Polydectes grinned maliciously at Dream, unfettered.

“So you have returned, perhaps you _are_ as strong as you say.” Dream ground his teeth and balled his hand into fists.

George looked to Danae at the feet of this king and immediately did not like him. Danae was chiseled like a Greek statue, petite features and glossy skin. George could pick out the resemblances Dream held to her. Scattered across her neck and arms were bruises of all colors, red and blue and purple, colorings of the galaxy that stood out like fire against her pale skin. 

George had not seen a rage run so untamed in a person ever. Dream’s entire countenance broke into outrage, hatred bleeding from his eyes.

“You bastard! You lay a hand on her?” The bite to his voice was almost too much for George to handle, but this was his husband and he remained by his side. Danae hid her face in her hands in shame. It was no wonder she had not stood up and embraced her son yet.

Polydectes looked like he might say something else, something rancid and awful, but before he could Dream dropped the bag he had been carrying so devotedly and pulled out its contents. George would have let out a cry if he hadn’t been almost frozen in fear.

It was the famed head of Medusa, hanging from Dream’s hand. The snakes drooped limply from the top of her head, where hair should have grown there were only the slinky bodies. Dream held it so that her eyes stared directly forward and away from them. Polydectes had no time to cover his eyes or look away, and he was turned to stone in an instant.

George let out a soft breath and Dream turned briefly to face him before he stowed the head away again and moved forward to his mother’s aid. She melted into his touch, and did not even flinch at the body of the king. Her eyes were stained with tears, red and wet, and her body appeared fragile from the breaking of her spirit. She did not take in George at first.

Dream carried her limp body back to their home. George helped to wash her off and bandage her freshest wounds. When she was laying on her back, feeling cleansed of the dirtiness King Polydectes had left her with, her eyes landed finally on George. She sat up a little, blinking steadily at him.

“Who are you?” She asked. It was a gentle, curious question. He leaned forward and grabbed her hand gingerly. She gripped it firmly, a tether to life. George wondered if she already knew.

“My name is George,” he said quietly. She stared at him, then a smile gradually overtook her cherry red lips. Dream was not in the room, but if he had been he was sure that Danae would have praised him.

“You are most welcome in this family, George,” she said. She then drifted off to sleep, her hand loosening in George’s grasp.

Hands snuck around his waist and George jumped, then relaxed into their familiarity. Dream’s chin hooked over his shoulder and pressed warm kisses to his collarbone.

“She approves of us,” George said, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Of course she does,” Dream said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

-

They did not stay in Seriphos long. Dream took both him and Danae to Argos, to meet with his grandfather, King Acrisius. Diktys became the king of Seriphos after they left, and although it was a much better place for it, Dream understood that his mother could not live there anymore. He had rid himself of the head of Medusa, gifting it to the Intelligent Athena, and so there was nothing left for him to do but move on.

Upon reaching Argos, they found, to their delight, that it was a day of games. George reveled in the pure excitement that escaped Dream in moments like this. Times where he could show off his Godly gift, his incredible strength. He watched from the stands, cheering him on. The crowd roared around him, chanting Dream’s name, and George was reminded once again how famous his spouse actually was. It was easy to forget the deeds Dream had accomplished when he was so used to seeing the lovingly human side of him.

Dream hefted his discus and threw it with such great force the crowd was stunned into silence. As if they had forgotten who they were here to see, the discus swiveled and crashed into the stands, smacking the King Acrisius in the head. He dropped dead on the spot. Dream knelt beside the man, distressed but not weeping, for he had never known the man. Acrisius had sent him and his mother away upon his birth in fear of the prophecy that Dream would kill him.

It had turned out to be true, after everything he had done to prevent it. For days after, George would catch Dream hunched over in thought, brows furrowing.

“What’s wrong?” George finally asked, place a hand between his shoulder blades comfortingly. Dream melted into his touch, face relaxing.

“I’m thinking about Acrisius. He did not deserve to die, did he? Yet I killed him.” George rubbed soothing circles into his back.

“It is alright, dear. It is the will of the Gods. And besides, you did not deserve to kill him.” Dream looked up into his eyes with a vulnerability he only allowed George to see. George kissed him gently. “Come on, let’s eat.”

The death of the king of Argos meant a new king was to be crowned, and first in line was Dream. George read the struggle in Dream’s features and knew before he said it that he would decline the throne. It was a gracious decision, and he remained in good favor.

To fill the position, he called on a friend. Megapenthes, of Tiryns. They exchanged thrones, and in turn Dream took the other’s kingdom into his possession. George and Danae went with him, and he was a just and great ruler. Under him, the kingdom of Mycenae prospered and thrived and it would pass on for many generations after.

George approached the throne on quiet feet. It was a wide and open room, airy with large windows and billowing tapestries. Sunlight dappled the stone flooring and colored his skin as he passed through. The stone of the palace was pale in color, resembling the tan sand that covered their lands. Mycenae was a place where the sun shone brightly throughout the year and the ground burned on bare feet. George loved it, and he loved the King.

Dream had his head resting on his hand, deep in thought, and he did not notice the form of his husband nearing him until he was only a foot away. He smiled and sat up straight, all the drudgery of the day slipping away. George stepped forward and ruffled his hair, running his fingers down across his forehead and cheek. Dream nudged his head into his palm.

Dream stood up from his throne and stretched his limbs like a cat. He sauntered closer to George, wrapped his arms around him, and pulled them together for a kiss. They clung to each other, hands drawing patterns in the other’s skin and lips moving together like second nature. Every time, it was as though it was the first, and he would never grow tired of it.

And never, would they be deprived of the other for the rest of their lives. Even after death, they were cast into the stars and made immortal. Side by side, they would feast on ambrosia with the Gods for the rest of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked this, my favorite part of fanfic is that I can talk to you guys!! Also, lmk if you would read another one, I kinda want to do Karlnap next.


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